


Time's supposed to heal ya

by LordGrimwing



Series: Can't Have Cake and Eat it Too [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bad Parenting, Child, Cultural Differences, F/M, Nightmares, Religion, Youngling, good parenting, single parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6454765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Firestorm, a single father and dedicated defense lawyer, is left to raise Red Alert on his own when Nightbird walks out on them.<br/>The mech does his best, though it can be hard working with accused criminals--most of whom were guilty--all day, then coming home to deal with a child. Between some friends who are willing to help, and taking a few of the more helpful hints from his own sire's many years of raising youngling, Firestorm feels he'll do just fine.</p><p>Of course, things are never that easy. And some bots just don't like how others raise their creations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be working on this story off and on, usually just when I don't feel motivated to work on my main story.
> 
> Bit of a warning for unusual child discipline (nothing terrible, but folks do raise kids differently).

A tinkling of crystal drew Firestorm’s optics away from the jury selection he was going over. A red and white youngling stood frozen on the tips of his peds, little hand still reaching for some little trinket on the counter, his large blue optics darting between the crystal flowers shattered from their fall off the counter and Firestorm slowly rising from his desk.

  
“What have I told you about playing by the crystals, little bot?” Firestorm’s words were calm but strict as he stood over the nervous youngling.

  
“N-not to.” The shame in the child’s optics was obvious before he lowered his red helm. “Sowwy daddy.”

  
“Sorry doesn’t fixed those crystals Morning Glory worked so hard at cultivating.” The red and yellow mech bent over, scooping his son up in his secure hold. “You’re going to need to come up with a way to repay Glory for the damage you caused to her nice gift.” Firestorm strode down the hall, the youngling holding onto his shoulder.

  
“Daddy?” The voice was cautious.

  
“Yes.” He looked down at the child as he opened a door.

  
“Don’-don’ put me in the quie woom.” Little sparkling hands clutched onto the yellow armor as the a dark closet was revealed behind the door.

  
“Quiet room, little Red, it’s called the quiet room.” He set the sad little sparkling down in the back of the closet. “You think of some ways to repay Glory; I’ll be back it a bit.” The door closed; the looked clicked; Firestorm returned to reviewing his notes for the upcoming trial.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“Aw, how nice Reddy.” Morning Glory placed a purple hand over her spark as the youngling held up a simple bouquet of organic flowers neatly arranged in a glass cube. “But you didn’t need to go through such trouble.” She lifted the bouquet and youngling up onto her ample violet lap. “I don’t mind that you broke those crystal flowers. Why,” the defence lawyer laughed, “I have a house full of them, and such things are going to happen with an energetic youngling running around.”

  
Morning Glory relived the silent youngling of his gift and set it next to a neon green miniature crystal bush, which shape matched its loving caretaker’s. As her lilac arm retreated she snagged a fistful of sweet energon tackies from a wide brimmed bowl on her desk.

  
“Have a goody, you cute little mech you.” She unwrapped two, dropping one into his cupped hands. The femme leaned back in her chair and laughed as her co-worker’s creation wolfed down the treat and turned big blue optics back to her, silently begging her for another. How could any sane bot say no to such puppy-dog imploring? She dropped another in his servos, with the admonishment to slow down and really enjoy what he was tasting.

  
Before the youngling could bring the stick goodness to his lips, he heard very familiar ped steps coming toward Morning Glory’s office. Dropping the energon goodie, he turned around on the lavender lap, sliding to the edge as Firestorm stepped into the room. His optics flashed around the brightly colored room quickly before settling on his on.

  
“Ah, good.” He pointed toward the door. “Go wait in my office. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  
The red and white youngling slid from Morning Glory’s stable lap and walked silently out of the office.

  
“You know Storm,” The femme rose from her chair, “as nice as it was, you didn’t have to have Reddy apologies for his little accident.”

  
Firestorm raised a finger, forestalling his co-worker. “No no, he came up with the idea all on his own.”

  
“Really!?” Morning glory was surprised; it wasn’t often a youngling would think of doing something so considerate.

  
“Yes.” The mech nodded, a smile hovering over his lips.

  
“You’re doing really good as a single parent. Not to be insensitive, but I’d say you’re doing better now than with her.”

  
Firestorm shrugged. He would have preferred if Morning Glory had left Nightbird out of the conversation, but he couldn’t begrudge someone speaking the truth, it was a rare thing to see in their profession.

  
“Has he started talking yet?” The tone was serious now.

  
“Only at home. Only a little.” Firestorm shook his helm. His son was well past the age when most creations started talking.

  
“Have you taken him to see a psychiatrist?” Morning Glory didn’t have any younglings of her own, so she tended to mother younger bots around her.

  
“Yes…” he hesitated, thinking. “It was made very clear, very fast, that it wasn’t helping with anything.” Firestorm didn’t leave time for the femme to pry anymore, he strode stiffly from the room.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
The youngling tried to push his father’s sponge filled hand away and escape from the tub. He’d managed to splash half the water out and thoroughly soak Firestorm, who was starting to lose his tolerance with the child.

  
“Be still.” He commanded, firmly pushing his son back down into the soapy water and scrubbing away at the grease in his arm joints. “You have to get clean weather you like it or not, so just hold still and I’ll be done faster.” He was never this ill behaved as a youngling, his father would have never tolerated it. 

  
After dumping his young creation under the water, Firestorm pulled the now no longer thrashing youngling up and, applying more cleaner to the sponge, started scrubbing the small red helm. Now that his son was no longer resisting, he was able to finish in only a few minutes. Firestorm lifted the dripping child from the tub, quickly drying him off with an organic fiber towel before laying his limp son over his shoulder and carrying him off to his room.

  
“Go to sleep now.” The mech told the quiet youngling before turning out the light and closing the bedroom door.

 

The child, Red Alert, twisted around on his gel berth until he was hidden within a cocoon of heating blanket. He could feel every little droplet of water his father failed to wipe away, they made him shiver and itch and squirm. They made him remember how his mom used to wash him, she always got every drop, and it tickled so when she would run the cloth across his belly and peds and everywhere. He liked it when she tickled him and laughed when he tried to squirm away, giggling. But she stopped laughing, she stopped tickling him and playing. He didn’t like when she started yelling at him and pushing him around. Then she left and bots said he should be glad and happy. But why? Now it was just him and daddy, with no mommy to love him.


	2. 2

“Red.” Firestorm pointed to the large sign as he walk his son through the quiet streets of Iacon, heading toward the district’s school building.

  
“Wed.” Red Alert repeated.

  
Firestorm stopped, the small mechling halting behind him. “Red.”

  
“Wed?” The child’s light blue optics shone nervously.

  
“Red.” This time Firestorm put more emphasis on the ‘r.’

  
“Rwed.” Red Alert tried again.

  
“That’s good enough for now.” The pair continued walking.

  
Red Alert moved closer to his father’s long legs as they passed through the gates and entered the sprawling school building. His little hands reaching out for Firestorm’s, but pulled back as the tall mech’s hand twisted way. They stopped in front of the front desk, manned by two chipper bots, painted in bright, friendly colors.

  
“I am Firestorm.” He reached down and lifted his son to were the two bots could see him. “This is Red Alert. He’s here for his first day in the first grade.” He set the child back down on his peds.

  
“Let’s see.” One of the bots flict through the list of transfer and new students. “Here we are. I’ll take you son to his class.” The yellow and pink mech stepped around the desk, extending a heavily painted hand to the mechling.

  
“I’d actually like to drop him of directly there.” Firestorm stepped between the unnamed mech and his son.

  
“Uh, okay?” The yellow bot turned. “Follow me then sir.”

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“Call on line one for you.” Firestorm looked up from his files as Morning Glory stepped into his office, pointing at the green light flashing on his desk.

  
“Oh, thanks.” He depressed the button. “Firestorm speaking.” Morning Glory stepped out to give him privacy.

  
“Hello, this is Clear Moon from District Three grade school; I’m Red Alert’s teacher.”

  
He nodded his helm, remembering the short blue femme from that morning. “I hope you are not calling because he has broken a rule, I thought he learned them all quite well.”

  
“Oh no.” Clear Moon gave an almost laugh. “He did just fine in that respect. But I’m a little worried about some of his behavior, I’d like to speak with you about it when you come to pick him up later.”

  
“Yes, speak to you then.” Firestorm ended the call, he had a lot of work to get done if he was going to have time to talk with Clear Moon. Hopefully his son wouldn’t be in too much trouble for whatever it was that he did; there was a lot of work to do for his client's upcoming hearing.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“Tell me mister Firestorm, has your son ever seen a femling before?” Clear Moon’s hard blue hands were clasped on her desk, her optics intent. She evidently wasn’t big on small talk. That suited Firestorm just fine.

  
The corners of Firestorm’s mouth flicked down. “I am unsure of how this is relevant. What exactly did Red Alert do for you to ask this?”

  
“Well,” the teacher looked down at the small mechling seated next to his father. “Care to tell your sire what you did to day?” The femme had a strong voice.

  
A mumble. Firestorm looked down at the small sound.

  
“Red Alert,” he commanded, “look up and speak up.”

  
The child raised his red helm. “I-I said bad wods.”

  
“Tell your sire what you said.” Clear Moon ordered.

  
“I said Blossom isa weid name, and that mechling shouldn’t be colod pink.” Red Alert lowered his helm in shame.

  
“I see.” Firestorm turned back to Clear Moon. “I will insure that this does not happen again. Red Alert will be sure to treat all students with the proper amount of respect from here on out. If that is all, we will be leaving now.” The red and yellow mech stood, the mechling hurrying to his side. The door closed behind them, leaving Clear Moon alone in her office to think over the day’s events. All in all, she didn’t have a very high opinion of the lawyer’s parenting skills.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“What have I said about saying things like that to anyone?” Firestorm inquired as he and Red Alert climbed that last few steps to their home’s front door. His creation gulped and looked down, wishing he could just disappear forever. The child made no response as they crossed through the entryway and into the dark home.

  
“Not talking are we?” Red Alert shook his helm, he’d be in big trouble no matter what he said. Firestorm flicked on a light in the living room and sat down in one of the chairs, patting his knee. The mechling obediently climbed onto his father’s lap.

  
The red and yellow mech lifted his son under his arms until they were optic to optic. “Did you know that what you were doing was wrong?” A tiny nod. “But you did it anyway?” More timid nodding. “That is a very bad thing to do young mech.” Red Alert whimpered slightly as Firestorm lay him over a knee, holding the child’s thin legs between his own, and pressing his arm against the red and white back to keep him pinned. Raising his free hand, Firestorm brought it down swiftly on the mechling’s aft.

  
Red Alert gasped at the sting, then bit his lip to stop from crying out. He would just get into more trouble for protesting his punishment. So he lay there, coolant running down his cheeks and energon leaking down his chin.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
Morning Glory looked up from her desk as Firestorm strode past her small office. Getting up from her seat, the purple femme followed her co-worker to his own office.

  
“You’re here early.” She noted jovially as the handsome Praxian hurriedly collected a stack of files and case notes from his desk.

  
“Yes, well a client's parole hearing was moved up and I need to review these on the way over.” Morning Glory stepped aside as Firestorm speed walked out of the room.

  
“Hope everything goes well!” She called after him as he flashed out of the office. An odd thing to say, she mused as she returned to her own case files. If Firestorm did his job well then a convicted criminal would practically be walking around free by that evening, but such was life. Who was she to judge? She spent half her cases helping sleazebags get half of everything they and their former-bondmate-to-be owned. 

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
It was late when Morning Glory’s personal communication line rung. “Hello?” She wasn’t expecting a call from anyone.

  
“Hey Morning Glory, this is Firestorm. I need to ask a favor of you.” The lilac femme smiled at the Praxian’s voice.

  
“How can I help?” She leaned back in her reclining chair.

  
“The meeting is going over, and I just realized I won’t make it back to Iacon until late.”

  
“Sorry to hear about that.”

  
“Yes well, would it be possible for you to go and retrieve Red Alert from school.” There was background noise of someone calling a meeting back together.

  
“Sure thing Storm.”

  
“Thanks. I am sorry for the inconvenience Morning Glory. Tomorrow I'll be sure to sign a form allowing him to come and go on his own before and after school.”

  
“Oh, it’s not an inconvenience at all! Primus knows I need the exercise.”

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“Father?” Firestorm looked up from his data. Red Alert lay on the floor, diligently working away at his home work.

  
“Yes?”

  
The young mech sat up to better speak with his sire. “I’ve noticed that at school, many of my classmates weally-"

"Really."

"-struggle with following school wules.” He paused, waiting for Firestorm to correct him, when he didn't, the mechling considering what it was he was going to say. “Never mind father.”

  
“What is it you want to say.” Firestorm set his data file aside, sliding down from his chair, he settled himself down next to his little son, though he wasn’t as small as he’d been when he’d started school a few years back, though he still struggled with talking.

  
“They say things.” Red Alert looked away.

  
“What things?”

  
“I-I don’t want to say them.” He looked away, optics down cast.

  
“What do they say?” Firestorm’s words were commanding, demanding an answer.

  
“Bad things about you. They say you’re a weally bad mech.” Red Alert gulped. “I don’t understand why they say those things. You help good people get out of a place for bad people evewyday; they shouldn’t say those things.” The young mech twisted around, nervously flicking his stilus around his fingers.

  
“Okay Red.” Firestorm patted his slim shoulder. “We’ll talk later about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing suggestions are always welcome!


	3. 3

“What you’we doing is against school wules.” Red Alert calmly looked up at the two mechs from his class, a younger mech was clinging to his back, making small nervous sound.

  
“Well look at that Sidecross, little glitchy is talking.” The two gray and blue mechs laughed.

  
“Awww.” Sidecross cood. “Why don’t you run home and tell your daddy the good news? Wait! He’s too busy getting criminals out of jail to care!” More laughter.

  
“Beat it kid.” Both of the large mechlings glared down at him now, getting uncomfortably close. “You’re too small to do anything about it.”

  
“What you’we doing is ille-” Red Alert’s voice cut off when Sidecross hit him across the face. The youngling behind him flinched at the sound.

  
“If that’s all you can say glitchy, then stop wasting your breath.” Sidecross’s companion shoved the stunned mechling to the ground. The white and black youngling faltered back, his blue optics flicking between the three strangers. The light-gray and blue mechling stepped forward, picking up the youngling and grinning maliciously at him.

  
“No one to protect you now little guy.” The youngling cried as he was given a rough shake.

  
“Stop it.” The black and white youngling squeaked as he was pulled away from the big mechling. “This is wong.” The white and red one locked his arms protectively around the younger bot’s chest, arms hooked awkwardly over the small door wings.

  
The two older mechs glanced at each other, shared a smirk, and closed in.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“What have I told you about fighting?” Firestorm sounded tired as he walked Red Alert home that evening. His son was sporting a few fresh welds across his dented face.

  
“But I wasn’t fighting father.” The words weren’t very loud, his jaw was really sore. “They were going to hurt a youngling. I just twied to stop it.”

  
“Tried.” Firestorm corrected.

  
“Tried.” Red Alert repeated.

  
“Red, the law doesn’t care if you had a good reason for breaking it or not.” He opened the door to their home. “All that matters is you did.” Firestorm opened another door, pointing inside. Red Alert lowered his helm and stepped in. “We will discuss this further in the morning.” The door to the Quiet Room closed and locked.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“Hi. Can I sit here?”

  
Red Alert grunted, not looking up from his lunch tray as he scooted over on the small booth to make room. His jaw still hurt from the fight and he was sore from his father’s punishment. From the corner of his optic, he saw a black and white frame slide in next to him, then a small hand was thrust in front of him.

  
“I’m Prowl. What’s your name?” The youngling Red Alert had help said. Red Alert twisted in his seat so that he could better see Prowl, though he didn’t take the offered hand.

  
The youngling was definitely Praxian, he had a little red chevron on his forehelm and tiny door wings fluttering on his back. He was smiling almost from ear-to-ear, which Red Alert didn’t think was possible with the long, fresh, weld mark running over his mouth.

  
“Wred Alert.” He didn’t return the smile, just went back to finishing his lunch in silence.

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
According to Prowl, his sire usually came to pick him up from school at about three, and since Firestorm wouldn’t be home until about five, Red Alert asked if he could wait with the young Praxian.

  
“We just moved here last week.” Prowl was animatedly explaining why it was that Red Alert hadn’t remembered seeing him before the fight.

  
“From Pwaxus?”

  
“No, no. I’ve never actually lived in Praxus before.” Prowl laughed. “My mom was raised there, but she’s never asked dad about moving there.”

  
“Oh.” Red Alert inwardly slapped himself for making such an assumption. He’d have to make it up to the other sometime soon.

  
“Have you ever been to Praxus? My mom says it’s a beautiful place, in an odd sort of way. I’ve never know what she meant.” Prowl looked up at the mechling.

  
“No. But my father gwew up there.” Red Alert glanced away to see a tall mech stepping through the school’s gates. “Is that your father?”

  
Prowl turned to see. “Dad!” He called, face lighting up as he waved at the pell green mech.

  
“Hey Prowl.” The mech crouched by his son’s side. “How was my little dude’s second day at school?” He gently ran a finger along the weld on his son’s face, checking for cracks.

  
“It was really nice!” Prowl grinned, pulling his father’s hand away and turning to introduce the red and white mechling behind him. “Dad, this is my new friend Red Alert.” He said it very matter-o'-factly.

  
“Why hello Red Alert. I am Rainshower.” He extended his hand to shake.

  
“Nice to meet you mister Wrainshower.” Red Alert quickly shook the proffered hand. “My father will be expecting me home soon.” Firestorm wouldn’t even be home for at least two hours, but Red Alert was starting to feel rather odd around Prowl’s father, he’d need to repent for the lie at home. “Good bye.”

  
“See you tomorrow!” Prowl called after his quickly disappearing friend.

  
“Let’s go home now Prowl, mom’s got a great meal waiting on the table.”

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
“Did Prowl tell you about his new friend?” Rainshower asked his bondmate Rainbow as he tumbled into bed next to her.

  
The femme rolled onto her side, curling against her husband. “My word yes.” She murmured, snuggling into his arms. “That’s all he talked about while getting ready for recharge.”

  
“He was much the same on the way home too. Did he tell you Red Alert’s the one who stood up for him the other day?”

  
“Yes.” Rainbow murmured tiredly.

  
“He seemed like an odd little mechling.” Rainshower mused.

  
“Dearest, can we talk about this in the morning?” The femme twisted around, signalling the end of the their conversation with her little door wings tucked neatly against her bondmate’s chest. “Good night.”

  
⃠⃠⃠⃠

  
Red Alert sat quietly on his small bed. Firestorm had retired sometime ago, after punishing his creation for lying to Prowl’s father and for not coming home right away after school, he'd gone to his study. He was sore and tired but he just couldn’t fall asleep.

  
Prowl called Red Alert his friend. He had a friend. He had someone closer to his own age to talk with now. Red Alert smiled, ignoring the tight welds over his face. He had a friend.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long on this chapter.
> 
> Oh, a veg warning for prostitution if this chapter.

“I need to go into the office early today.” Firestorm informed his son as he slid a gelified cube of energon across the counter at him. “I’ll drop you off at school on my way in.”

Red Alert nodded. There really was no arguing with his father. Doing so would just get him in trouble, and it wouldn’t be dark for more than an hour once he got to the education center. The mechling picked up the gooee block of fuel. He really didn’t like eating it like this but Firestorm was already unlocking the front door, and if Red Alert didn’t hurry, the yellow and red be annoyed at him for lollygagging. At least he had energon today.

⃠⃠⃠⃠ 

“Slow down Prowl!” Rainbow called after her youngest son as he ran off in front of her.

“But mom,” the youngling cried, “you walk so slow. We’ll never make it school on time now!” Despite his complaint, the black and white child hurried back to her side.

Rainbow smiled: her son was so full of life. Such enthusiastic energy had almost never been present in Praxis. That was just one of the many reasons why she’d decided to leave the city of her heritage. “You’re too young to be worrying about that kind of thing Prowl.” She patted his red chevron as they crossed a street.

It really didn’t take them much longer to get to the gated school yard. At the barred entrance, Rainbow buzzed the main office, identified herself and Prowl. After the gates slid back, the two walked across the grounds and into the main building. The whole while, Prowl kept looking about for his friend. 

“Good morning!” Called Periwinkle, the perky pink femme manning the front desk today. “Oh, Mrs. Rainbow, I see you’re here to sign Prowl in for the morning.” She held out a register to the Praxian, pointing to the line to sign on. The pink femme placed a time stamp on the register as soon as Prowl’s mother handed it back to her.

“Have a nice day dear!” The green and gold femme called after her son as Pariwinkle led him through the doors build the desk into the main building.

With a sigh, she started out of the school grounds for home. Praxis may have a much lower crime rate than Iacon, but at least she didn’t have to worry about anything too bad happening to Prowl at school: the place was a miniature fortress. 

⃠⃠⃠⃠ 

“What happened to your hand?” The moment the words were out of Prowl mouth, he wished he could Red Alert from hearing them. His friend stepped back, hiding his dented fingers behind his back.

“N-nothing.” His red and white stammered, optics flicking around, trying to ascertain of anyone else had seen his damaged hand. “I just dropped something on it last night.”

“Okay then.” Prowl accepted. He didn’t want to distress his new friend any farther by asking about the scraped paint on his legs. No one else had probable noticed it, Prowl just saw things that were out of place like that. His mom said it was a Praxian thing. “You, uh, want to come over to my home sometime after school?”

Red Alert shifted his gaze to look at his smaller friend’s hopeful smile. “Y-yeah, but I need to ask my father first.”

⃠⃠⃠⃠ 

“You’re a Praxian.” Firestorm stated, looking Rainbow up and down.

“Yes, I am.” The femme responded to the slightly taller mech.

“And your creation,” he gestured down, without looking, at the child standing by her leg, “wants my creation to come over to your house tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, he would like that very much--we would like him to come over.” She smiled down at Red Alert, though the mechling didn’t see it as he stared straight ahead.

“Then he will come home with your creation after school, and he will leave before dark.” With that, Firestorm turned away for his more, Red Alert close on his heels.   
Rain shook her helm, reaching for Prowl’s hand. Firestorm was most certainly Praxian, much more so than she. 

⃠⃠⃠⃠

Outside his office window, the night lights of Iacon were muted by a heavy fog. Firestorm didn’t notice since he had the blinds closed as he worked late on an Amicus Brief. The firm's workload grew very heaving this time of year and their head attorney retiring certainly didn’t make things any easier on the five fulltime employees and three interns.   
Firestorm glanced at the clock on his desk. It was almost a quarter past midnight and there was still much that needed to be done. The Praxian rubbed at his optics, just the thought of it all made him tired. A roll of thunder pulled Firestorm’s attention from his work as he momentarily saw the slits between the window blinds light up from a flash of lightning. 

The storm was certainly getting worse by the hour. The yellow and red mach considered comming home to check if his son was doing alright. But no, Red Alert knew when bedtime was, and he surely had turned in for the night as soon as he got home from his friend’s home. Firestorm nodded to himself as he turned back to his work. A propore Praxian parent never need to worry about such things, and while this wasn’t Praxis, he was doing his best to raise Red Alert as all Praxians should be. The fact that his creation’s mother wasn’t Praxian just made things a little more challenging.

Firestorm began returned to editing the briefing. He’d see his son at dawn for breakfast, or possibly in the evening, depending on how much could be finished before heading home. 

⃠⃠⃠⃠ 

Red Alert trembled under a light pull, struggling to see through the fog. He thought he’d followed his father’s instructions to the tee: he’d left before dark, hadn’t accepted any rides, talked to any strangers. Yet here he stood, with know idea how to get home. If only there wasn’t any of this stupid fog! With a sniffle and rub of his itching optics, Red Alert chose another light pull and started walking toward it.

As he neared the glow in the fog, a figure appeared. The figure leaned against the pillar, and as the bicolored mechling got closer he could tell it was a femme, a very curvy femme. She held a glowing stick between two of her fingers and she kept bringing it up to her mouth before exhaling a shimmering cloud.

Sickly red optics suddenly flicked in his direction, and the femme twisted her slender frame to better see the small mechling. “Well well well.” A far too shiny grin split her too painted face. Red Alert drew back, he’d never seen a femme like this before; she scared him. “Come ‘ere little mech.” She bent over slightly, expelling another shiny breath.

Red Alert edged nearer, unsure of what this strange femme could want. “Hello?” His voice trembled. 

“What’s a cute li’le boy like you doin’ down ‘ere?” She extended a delicate hand, fingers tipped with ruby nails. 

Red Alert stared at the hand, turn. His father told him not to talk to strangers, but then, following his father’s instructions weren’t getting him home. “I’m going home.” He took the hand.

“At this ‘our?” She pulled him closer and the smell coming from her glowing stick made him want to cough. “I’d tell you to be careful, but...” she put the stick in her mouth.   
“I’ve been told that before ma’am.” He looked up that her sickly optics.

“And so polite too!” The femme suddenly swung Red Alert up onto her hip. It was an awkward position given he wasn’t a youngling anymore, and he found himself gripping onto the tassilly bits on her shoulders, blue optics wide. “You’re so flustered.” She laughed, tapping a finger against his nose.

“Please put me down.” He wasn’t fond of being held by anyone.

There was a screeching of tires, the sound of transformation, and the two in the next to the light pull could make out the form of a mech standing not too far off, watching them.  
“Well,” the femme slid Red Alert to the ground. “That’ll be for me. Stay safe li’le mech!” She called over her shoulder, hurrying toward the blurry mech. Two transformation sequences later, and the mechling was all alone again. With a sigh, he chose another light pull and started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If people let me know things that they would like to see happen in this story, I would be very inclined to include them as things so along.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update this story. I can't promise that I'll be more punctual soon because until about the 10th of July this will be a busy time for me. Sorry.
> 
> I'm still working on this story and the next part of Neos Mnestis.

It was Rainshower’s habit, when he picked his son up from school, to discover how Prowl’s day had been. He enjoyed hearing about life from the perspective of a youngling instead of from the construction team he worked with. Prowl was waiting for him just on the other side of the school gates. 

“You’re looking a little glum today.” Rainshower noted the slightly dimmed optics. “Something bad happen today?” His son had gone through some bullying when they first arrived, though once Red Alert stood up for him things seemed to have gotten better. He probably should ask Prowl’s teacher about it.

“No dad, it’s just I didn’t see Red Alert today. I guess he just had a lot of stuff to get done and couldn’t hang around or anything.” Prowl sighed.

Rainshower faltered in his stride. The mechling had come over to their house yesterday after school, and although he had left with time to get home before it grew too dark, it was foggy last night. Was it possible something untoward could have happened? 

“I’m going to make quick comm, okay Prowl?” He stopped his son, queueing up his list of contacts.

“You’re going to make sure everything is alright?” The youngling looked up with worried optics.

“Yeah.” He selected the number listed for Red Alert’s father.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

“You’ve got a call on line three.” Morning Glory’s called surprised Firestorm, his head jerked up, a thick line appearing across the notepad he was working in. The purple femme was serving as the firm’s unofficial clerk/receptionist for now. 

“I’ll get it.” With a scowl, he wiped away the stray make and opened the business line. “This is Firestorm. How may I be of assistance?” 

“I’m glad I reached you.” The voice was that of a mech, though the Praxian didn’t know who. “Did Red Alert make it home safe and sound last night.”

Firestorm’s plating tightened. “Who is this?” He demanded.

“Oh, right. I’m Rainshower: Prowl’s sire. I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“No, we haven’t.” The red and yellow mech wasn’t very pleased about being interrupted during work because of some noisy parent. “Now, what is it you want? We are quite busy at this time, so please be quick.”

Rainshower cleared his voice. “I just want to be sure that Red Alert made it home safely. It was rather foggy last night.”

Firestorm rolled his optics. “I am certain that my creation made it home just fine. Now if that is all-”

“Prowl says he wasn’t at school today.” It was rude to interrupt and it just added another mark on the growing list of how disappointing that youngling’s family was.

“Then your creation in mistaken: Red Alert knows the rules about school. Good day sir.” Before the Iaconian could get another word out, the comm ended.

For a moment, Firestorm stretched back in his chair, popping a few struts into proper alignment, before once again hunching over his desk. He was positive that this Rainshower was over reacting. Well, almost positive. If his child were a true Praxian he would have no doubts, but then Red Alert had been raised by his carrier for a while. This was most likely nothing to worry about, if the mechling had neglected to attend to his duties, at home or school, then there would be a problem. He’d know once he got home, probably sometime after dark.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

“And he just brushed you off?” Rainbow asked in slight agitation after her bondmate of almost twenty years told her of comming Firestorm. 

“Like it was nothing.” Rainshower’d optics shown with annoyance as he assisted his wife in cleaning the cubes used for dinner. These weren’t the safest of times, and for anyone to be so unconcerned about the whereabouts of their creation was very disturbing. “Perhaps I should go over to their home and make sure Red Alert’s there.” He’d already commed the school, and after some prying, Periwinkle finally admitted that the mechling never checked in or out. 

Rainbow set aside the cube she just renced. “Give me two minutes check on the children, then I come with you.” The golden-green femme hurried off to check on her three children. 

“Where are you going moma?” Prowl asked as he was tucked sniggly under his heating blankets. 

“Daddy and I are just going out for a little walk: we’ll be back before you know it.” Placing a gentle kiss on his chevron, Rainbow headed out of the room. 

⃠⃠⃠⃠

The moderately sized home sat behind a white fence, on a well groomed loan, in a quiet part of the city. The house was very Praxian: plain grey walls, darkly tinted windows, an ancient glyph of order inscribed over the black door. It all made Rainshower very uncomfortable while climbing the steps to the porch. 

Rainbow took the lead, rapping firmly on the hard door--there was no ringer. Everything was still after the vibrations faded, leaving a heavy feeling in it’s wake. She raised her fist again, knocking much louder this time. Again there was no answer, and as Rainshower moved to try, she quickly stopped his hand.

“If Firestorm is in there knocking again would only be a sign of disrespect.” At her mate’s odd look she continued. “Praxian culture.”

“Oh. Well then what do we do now?” The couple turned from the door.

“I suppose that we could go to Firestorm’s place of work--if we knew where it was. He may take our words more seriously then. But other than that I’m just not sure.” Rainbow glanced worriedly back at the dark house. “Perhaps we should comm the enforcers.”

“What are you doing here?” A hard voice called out. Firestorm stood at the gate to enter his yard, door wings flared out, optics narrowed. “This is private property.” he snapped. “Get out.”

Rainbow hiked her own door wings up to mach the other Praxian’s. “We’re concerned about your son.” She had no intention of backing down. 

“My creation is none of your business, femme.” He growled, stepping forward.

Rainshower wasn’t a Praxian, he was just a plain bot born and raised in Iacon, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t paid attention to what Rainbow told him about their culture, he just wasn’t inclined to care about it all right now. They lived in Iacon for a reason. “Look here,” he said, stepping forward, almost nose-to-nose with the red and yellow mech. “No one has seen your son today, and the fact that you aren’t worried at all is terrible. I can’t believe you could care so little about Red Alert’s safety as to all but say you’re too busy at work to be bothered with him!”

“My creation knows better than to disobey rules.” Firestorm snapped, shoving his way past Prowl’s parents and marching through the front door.

Moments later, the door opened again. Firestorm stood there, optics flicking around the yard before landing on the mech and femme still standing near the gate.

“My son does not seem to be here.” He paused, lowering his door wings. “ Because it is already late, your assistance would be much appreciated in finding him.”

Rainbow walked forward, laying a golden hand on a red shoulder. “I think we should call the enforcers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kodos are dearly appreciated. I love to hear what people have to say about my writing.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say this, but I will be gone until Saturday again (sorry) with no internet access. So here's a bit of a longer chapter for anyone who's reading this.

A child disappearing in Iacon was a very serious thing, never to be taken lightly. The possibilities of what may have happened were almost numberless, and all do haist would be made by the enforcers to find the lost creation. Well, all do haist was made for some family, but not for all. Enforcers had a lot to do and children went missing all the time. It just wasn’t possible. Thus it was that Firestorm, Rainbow and Rainshower were told they had to wait 24 hours before the enforcers could do anything about it, even though Rainbow insisted that no one had seen Red Alert since the night before.

“There is nothing to be done, except search on our own.” Firestorm stated, striding out of his yard. “We will start along the path you your home. Red Alert knows to stay where he is if he is ever lost, until someone he knows finds him.” Rainshower and Rainbow followed the red and yellow Praxian, and although they didn’t say anything out loud, they both thought it was very unlikely any mechling would wait in one place for so long.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

The moon was shining high over Iacon when Rainshower looked behind a pile of scrap metal and found the sleeping mechling. Gently, he reached around the curled frame and hefted Red Alert into his arms.

“Rainbow, Firestorm,” he called over the comm line they had open. “I found him.”

“Where are you?” Firestorm asked quickly. The Praxian was looking in the more residential area.

“Prime street and Fiftieth South: behind Dice ‘n’ Drinks.” Rainshower shifted the child to a more manageable position; although he was small for his age, Red Alert wasn’t nearly as easy to hold as any of his creations. “I’m heading back toward your place Firestorm.”

“We’ll meet you there ‘Shower.” That was Rainbow. She’d been searching more toward Iacon’s main streets, away from residential zoning. 

The lanky green mech stepped out onto the road, looking down once to make sure the mechling was still deep in recharge, he transformed and drove back toward Firestorm’s home. Rainshower was lucky to be one of the few Iaconians whose alt mode was actually large enough to hold a mechling, even a small one. 

It didn’t take him long to make it back to where they’d all started.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

As soon as he transformed, Firestorm was pulling the now barely awake Red Alert from Rainshower’s side and up in a strong embrace. The mechling was too tired to pay much attention to what was going on around him, and just tucked his helm under his father’s chin, happy to be held by someone familiar after what had happened.

The pair remained like this for a few moments, until Firestorm raised his door wings back up to their typical, rigid, stance. He turned to the mech and femme standing near him. “I thank you both deeply for your assistance.” His voice was back to the stiff tone he usually used in conversation. “If there is a time I may ever repay you, please, tell me.” With that, he turned sharply on his heel and strode away.

Rainshower moved forward, the look on his face showing that his worry for his son’s friend had not abated with finding the child. Rainbow placed a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t.” She warned. 

“I just want to make sure the kid’s okay. Firestorm doesn’t seem like the mech who’s going to take Red Alert to see a doctor at this hour, if something’s wrong with him.” There were other things that Rainshower didn’t think the Praxian would do, this just wasn’t the time to talk about them.

“I know, but believe me, if we start medalling too much in his life, Firestorm is going to feel insulted that we think he’s not raising his creation properly.” Rainshower could recall her own creators’ reactions when some of their neighbors accused them of not raising their children in the propor Praxian way. “It would not go over well. Not at all.”

“But that is exactly what I think.” Rainshower insisted as his bondmate pulled in out of the nice lawn and to the street that would lead them back home. 

“I know.” She replied as they transformed and turned down the street that lead away from the middle class housing.

“He hadn’t even Red Alert since the kid left to come to our home!” The couple waited for a light to turn.

“Does he even know how to raise a child?!” He knew he was letting his tempore get away with him.

“Praxis isn’t like Iacon.” Rainbow murmured as they transformed and walked to the stairs leading up the the little porch before the door.

“I’m worried about him.” The green mech ended his tirade, stepping inside.

“So am I.” Even for a Praxian, Firestorm’s on parenting were extreme. Rainbow hadn’t seen anyone that detached for many, many years. 

⃠⃠⃠⃠

“My little Red.” Firestorm whispered as he tucked his little son under his blanket. “How did you wander so far?” He rubbed a yellow finger over his creation’s central sensory horn. “We’ll talk about that in the morning.” With that, the tall Praxian stood from the low bed and walked to the door. Glancing back, he saw that Red Alert had already return to sleep. With a sigh, he let himself out of the smaller room and into his own.

Red Alert had the day off from school tomorrow, some kind of teacher seminar was going on and he himself didn’t have to be at the office until noon. He would have plenty of time in the morning to talk with his son about what had happened. In the meantime, he really to get some rest of his own.

⃠⃠⃠⃠

Red Alert twisted on his bed, mind active, even while his frame recharged. His young mind couldn’t make sense of everything he’d glimpsed while out in the fog, and wandering around parts of the city he’d never seen before, so it coped with the memories the only way it could. 

With a gasp, Red Alert jolted from sleep, hands flying to his horns as he shock in the aftermath of a horrifying dream. 

He’d been with the strange femme he’d first ran into, the one that picked him up, but they weren’t outside, they were inside one of the low buildings he’d glanced into. The femme with the odd armor was holding him, bouncing him up and down on her lap, while one of the darkly painted mechs he seen on a street corner stood over them both, a smile painted onto his grim face. Red Alert hadn’t liked the way the mech started at him, white teeth showing between his lips, one hand resting on something bound to his hip.

The femme bouncing him had been humming something, and it called him down a little, caused him to not pay as much attention to the dark mech. He’d actually enjoyed the bouncing for a while, until the hands under his arms were pinching wires, and she was shaking him back and forth, snarling at him. Red Alert tried breaking free of the femme’s hold, but she just pinned his arms to his sides and shook harder.

“You’ve been a naughty little thing, haven’t you.” She hissed in his audio, fingers clawing under the hood of his still developing alt mode. 

“Stop! Stop!” The mechling cried, energon leaking from his mouth as he accidentally bit his lip. He thought his optics were going to fall out from all the jerking, but then dark hands were grabbing him too, yanking him out of the femme’s painful hold. 

The dark mech held him high over the ground by his ankle. Red Alert screamed as the femme lept up at him, clawed hands reaching for his face. The mech stepped back, kicking the wild femme away. She howled, but did not return. Gasping for breath, the mechling twisted to look up at the mech and suddenly he remembered something his father told him. 

Firestorm had pointed across the plaza at a darkly colored mech. “You see that mech Red Alert?” The youngling nodded his head. “If one ever comes near you, you run as fast as you can to me or an enforcer. Do you understand?” 

“Yes fathe’. But why?”

“Mechs like that do terrible things to younglings.” Firestorm hadn’t even bothered to correct his creation’s pronunciation. 

The dark mech lifted the now thrashing mechling higher into the air, opening a giant bag tied to his hip, then lowering Red Alert steadily toward the huge opening. The child screamed again.

That was when he’d woken up.

Now, Red Alert lay frozen on his berth, too scared to go back to sleep and too scared to get up and try hiding from the monster in his sire’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares are horrible. I'm really glad I don't have many.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you can't have your cake and eat it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for reference (and because I've never really given ages) Red Alert is about 13 during this chapter and Prowl is 9.
> 
> Link to a picture that goes with this chapter ---> http://mysisiter.deviantart.com/art/Youngling-and-Family-Services-670869712

“Mr. Firestorm, your son was not at school yesterday.” Said school’s strict principal started sternly over the rim of his glasses at the red and yellow Praxian.

Firestorm straitened in his seat. “I am fully aware of that.” He was not pleased with being asked to speak to somebot at the school because of something his creation had or had not done, and just because he was on leave from the office didn’t make it any better. If it wasn’t asking--what his teachers considered--inappropriate questions, it was zoning out in class (Firestar still didn’t understand why the school couldn’t just move him to more advanced classes, if Red Alert were challenged then he wouldn’t lose interest in a lecture), or… other things that he just didn’t understand there being a problem with.

“You are aware that he is now well over his allotted days of absence.” The principal, Thorn, removed his glasses and set them before him. He looked less stern and more exasperated with them off.

Firestorm stared fixedly at Thorn for a moment before replying. “I am aware that this school has rules in place for attendance; these restrictions are to help students stay caught up in their studies. My creation could hardly be doing better in his classes and he has had my permission for each time he has not attended school. I don’t see what the problem is.” He really didn’t and this just went to show how the Praxian way of doing things was so much preferable to the Iaconian way.

“Listen Firestorm.” Thorn leaned forward. “I have tried to be considerate of your heritage as a Praxian and that you want to raise Red Alert in the way of your people, but there are laws in Iacon that I just can not ignore. Given your son’s record at this school, it won’t be long before someone starts asking questions. I don’t want that kind of attention brought no my school and 3I’m sure that you don’t want it on your family either. Something is going to have to change, and it can’t be school policy.” He interlaced his fingers before himself on the desk, waiting for the Praxian’s response.

The red and yellow mech was very still. His eye’s locked with Thorn’s. “I do not appreciate you telling me how to raise _my_ creation.” He slowly stood. “I have tried to follow the rules of Iacon while still raising my creation in a way worthy of his heritage.” Turned toward the door. “I will take into consideration what you have said, but we are Praxian.” Left Principal Thorn’s office. Red Alert was waiting for him just outside, eyes downcast into a cyber-security datapad. Without a word, he scrambled to his feet and hurried home after his creator.

⍉⍉⍉⍉

Red Alert desperately wanted to ask his sire why they’d had to go to the Principal’s office, not so long ago he would have, but he knew better now. Insteed, he knelt silently by his creator’s side on the decorative rug that usually hung in Firestorm’s room. He’d been told in very plain words that tonight began Tiid Fan Stilte, Time of Silence, and Praxian tradition required they spend the next three days in communion with Primus as they went through the daily rituals.   

The day before, Firestorm had kept Red Alert home from school and given him a datapad with the firm instruction to read it and learn the rituals it taught. The ‘pad was all about Tiid Fan Stilte. It explained how the tradition had come about way back in the early days of Cybertron when Primus had told one of his mouthpieces to worn a wayward clan that if they didn’t return to Primus they would be destroyed in the coming storm season. The mechs and femmes of the clam had rejected Primus’ words until the storms were upon them, at which point they’d turned to the mech of Primus and begged him to save them, that they would forever follow Primus if they survived.

Red Alert couldn’t help but laugh at that point; the whole story was just so ridiculous he didn’t get how anyone could believe it. But he did need to get through the reading before Firestorm got home, so he got back to it, though he still giggled at the impossibility of it all.

The mouthpiece had told the clam members that he alone could not turn back the ill-will of a deity, but with their help the storms could be pushed back (as if any bot could control the weather!). According to the story, everyone had gathered together and, lead by the mech sent by Primus, had knelt in the wild elements to beg up unto Primus for him to forgive them of their waywardness. After three days of doing nothing but beseeching the angry god, the storms had subsided back down to their normal levels. And that was how the Tiid Fan Stilte tradition began!

Red Alert laughed to himself, thinking about the story. It had been more unbelievable than the stories Firestorm read every evening before bed from the big old datapad about the beginning of Cybertron, and less subtil than the tells about misbehaving creations that his sire would telling before punishing him for something. How anyone could take this whole ritual seriously after reading that story was beyond him.

The rest of the ‘pad hadn’t been so funny.

Red Alert shivered in his spot next to his rather, who prodded him in the back every time he slouched even a little in his kneeling position. This celebration was held doing some of the coldest days in Praxis and, part of reminding the mechs and femmes involved of the physical struggle the clan’s members in the story had to go through, houses were opened up to the elements and there was no heating aloud. Since Iacon never really got cold, Firestorm made due by covering the winds with black sheet metal and turning the house’s climate control to as low as possible. So, Red alert had to kneel by his sire, trembling and shuddering in the frigid room as they slowly chanted supplications to Primus for any time they may have gone against his will.     

It was probably about sunset on the first day--it was hard to tell without light from the windows--when the first round of praying stopped. Firestorm stood, reaching a hand out to help Red Alert to his feet as well. The mechling felt so stiff he wasn’t even sure if he could stand on his own. Together they began walking to another part of the house Firestorm had prepared for part of the ritual. Normally, this next part would have been conducted by the oldest in an extended family in a special building, blessed and set apart for such sacred events. Since Firestorm knew of no other Praxians in Iacon who participated in Tiid Fan Stilte--Rainbow surely didn’t--he had to make do with what he had.

“It is time for the purging of the spark.” The Praxian took a ornate flask of a glowing fluid from an elaborately carved shelf and turned to face his creations.

Red Alert really wasn’t looking forward to this part.

⍉⍉⍉⍉

“Hello, this is Morning Glory. How may I help you today?” Said purple femme was sitting at the reception desk as she idly chipped away at some mundin tax files.

“Yes, I was wondering if Firestorm was in today.” The voice of a mech replied.

She set down her stilus. “No, I’m sorry but Firestorm has taken the rest of the week off. If you like, just leave your name and call back number and I can have him contact you as soon as he’s in again.” Because she certainly wasn’t going to interrupt his time away from the office for any reason. The handsome Praxian didn’t take enough vacation time as it was.

“Oh no, it’s fine.” The mech replied. “Do you happen to know if he’s still in the city?”

“He probably is.” The divorce lawer stopped before she let her mouth run away from her. “That’s all I can tell you sir. Have a nice day.” She ended the transmission.

⍉⍉⍉⍉

“Rainshower, please.” Rainbow reached out for her bondmate arm, vainly trying to stop him from marching through the gate that gave entrance to Red Alert’s home. “This isn’t going to help anything.”

The green mech pulled out of her grip. “No ‘Bow, stop defending him!” The construction mech pushed open the gate. “You didn’t see him. You didn’t see the marks on him!” Rainshower jammed his pointer finger against the door chime, repeatedly.

“Rethink this dear, please.” Rainbow grabbed his arm again. “All this is going to do is drive the wedge between Firestorm and us deeper. He’s a Praxian. He’s only going to see this as an attack. They’re a Praxian family and-”

“No they’re not!” He was have a hard time keeping a lid on his temper. “Red Alert was born here in Iacon. _He is not Praxian_! I’ve stayed silent for years about this because you say that. But today was the last straw.”

“Please, don’t-”

“Shut up!”

Rainbow’s door wings flattened against her back. Head lowered, she backed off, hands clasped before her as she moved to stand quietly behind her bonded. She had been raised in Praxus. She was a Praxian femme. Praxian femmes knew their place well. But that didn’t mean this didn’t hurt her.

The door slid open. Firestorm stood glowering before them, his arms crossed and feet plated. A highly annoyed set of optics clashed with an angry one.

“Your repeated intrusions into my life are not enjoyed.” The words dripped scorn.

“You can’t raise your son like this!”

Firestorm took a step forward, flaring out his door wings. “I am free to raise my creation the way _I_ see fit. This city allows me to keep the traditions of my home city.” He took another step forward, almost standing toe-to-toe with the other mech. “I do not try to control the way you raise your swarm of creations.” Rainshower bristled at the way he said that. “You can at least pay me the same courtesy.”

A red helm slowly poked around the edge of the door frame. Drawn by the sound of angry voices, Red Alert looked out at the three bots on the porch. His armor was still scuffed and dented from the various rituals in Tiid Fan Stetle. He’d been about to start repainting when Firestorm had gone to answer the repeated chiming from the door. His pale blue optics looked confusedly between the two glaring mechs. He was still low on energy after the whole cleansing stuff he and his sire had done and he couldn’t really make sense of why Prowl’s sire was here.

Rainshower gestured at the mechling. “Look at him! You can’t honestly believe that this is healthy.” Red Alert took a step back, looking as though he were ready to run back into the safety of the house at a moment’s notice.

Firestorm didn’t even turn his head. “Get. Off. Of. My. Property. Now. Before I comm the enforcers.” His optics were dark, hands balled into tight fists.

With an angry growl, the green Iaconian backed off. The look in his optics said it all. He might have lost this battle, but he had no intention of losing the war. There was more than one way to kill a retrorat.  

⍉⍉⍉⍉

 

“Let's get one thing straight Mr. Firestorm.” The perky little femme seated across from him started. “If there is a good reason for you to keep custody of your son, I will be your best friend and asset through the trial ahead of us. Conversely, if I find reason for him to be removed,” here her voice lowered and she leaned in closer, “I will be your biggest enemy. Because I’m hear to find the best solution for an innocent child; my loyal it to him and no one else.” She leaned back, smiling again, tone lighter. “Well then, shall we begin? First I’m going to need copies of all the reports from every time you taken your kid to see a medical professional for any reason.”

Firestorm’s foot twitched. “Why?” They were on the ninth floor of the Social Services building and he wasn’t in a good moon, not a good mood at all.

“To see if he’s been receiving the proper health care of course.” The femme, whose name badge announced her as Lickity-Split, chirped happily as she pulled a thin datapad out from one of the drawers in the desk they sat at. “Don’t worry though, I’ve created a list of all the documents I’ll be needing from you. I just want to go over everything with you first so that you know what to expect.”

The Praxian grumbled to himself as he accepted the ‘pad. He wasn’t stupid. He could read the list and find what was needed--if he had it--without this Lickity-Split going over everything. He didn’t want to offend the femme whose testimony and research would decide if he got to keep his creation or not, so he sat quietly as she went over everything in great detail.

He didn’t want to lose Red Alert.

⍉⍉⍉⍉     

“Hey Red Alert?”

Prowl’s voice was hesitant as she slowly slid open the door to the room his friend was staying in. He didn’t really get why the older mechling was staying some place farther away, he had to drive with one of his parents for half an hour to get to this strange house, but his parents told him that it wasn’t going to be permanent. They said that soon Red Alert would either go back to living with his father, or else go some place else entirely. Prowl’s father had actually sounded like he thought the latter was the better option, when he’d seen his youngest creation’s shocked expression, Rainshower had quickly knelt to his level as asked him if he liked the idea of Red Alert coming hand living with them, maybe for ever. He liked that idea very much.

“P-Prowl?” The older, but not much taller, mechling looked up from his spot on a very padded chair. His optics were large and really light, Prowl had never seen them so close to white before.

“Hi.” Prowl stepped into the nice little room, putting on his best smile. Rainbow had told him he needed to be strong for his friend right now before they’d entered this big building.

Instead of answering, Red Alert scrambled down from the chair, dashed over to Prowl and locked him in a hard embrace. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so so much.” The red and white mechling trembled as Prowl returned his hug.

“I’ve, uh, missed you too.” He really had, though, this sudden discovery of physical contact was a little disconcerting. Despite having been friends for years, the only time Prowl could really remember Red Alert touching him was the day they’d first met.  

Red Alert pulled back. Four years his junior, Prowl could already look him straight in the optics. Rich blue optics stared at almost white ones as they flicked to different points around the room.

“Do you want to play a-a game?”

“Sure.” Prowl smiled. “What do you want to play?”

⍉⍉⍉⍉

“From the information presented,” the almost pure black mech sitting at the desk before them was saying, “I’m gonna have to say The State’s case stands and the child must be removed from his sire and given over to the city of Iacon to care for.”

Firestorm clenched his servos. How? How could they be taking his creation away just because he was trying to keep to his cultural heritage alive? He didn’t let his anger show though. He was still Praxian after all and must remain calm until he could return home and calm down.

“I think that’ll be all.” The black mech rose. “Dismissed.”

⍉⍉⍉⍉       

“Excuse me!” Rainbow ran down the hallway, calling to the quick little case worker Lickity-Split.

“Yes?” The short femme turned around, waiting for the other to reach her. “Can I help you?” She smiled broadly.

“Yes, I think you can. I have a question about your case with Red Alert. I was-”

“Oh, the case is already settled.” At least it was a friendly interruption. “In favor of the state, which, personally, I am very happy with.”

Rainbow’s door wings rose happily. “I’m glad to hear it too. But, I was wondering if you could tell me the best way patision for adopting Red Alert.” She smiled hopefully.

“Oh.” Lickity-Split looked away for a moment, happy-o-meter falling. “I’m sorry to say that that won’t be an option for about a year. Legal processing and all that confusing stuff.” Here she paused. “And even when he could be adopted, I doubt you’d be allowed to be the one to take him home.”

Rainbow’s optics darked with confusion. Lickity-Split fumbled to explain. “Well you see--the problem is you--it’s just that--no offence, but you are Praxian.” She gave an embarrassed grin, then zipped off. Leaving the door winged femme standing stock still in the hall, mouth hanging open.

⍉⍉⍉⍉

Red Alert gulped as he stared up at the building he stood before, some lightly colored social worker was right behind him, prodding him to step forward. Nervously, he did so until he stood right in front of the door. He tapped his foot anxiously as the mech behind him rang the bell, clutching his small bag of personal items to his chest.

The door lid open, revealing a brightly smiling mech and femme. Red Alert squinted up at the bonded couple as they welcomed the social worker and him into their nice home. He didn’t like their smiles, they looked far too much like all the other smiles he’d seen since _they’d_ taken him away from his sire and home. The mechling was tired of seeing all these smiles. One, they were never real, but face ones that the mechs and femmes plastered on to look friendly. And two, there wasn’t enough in life to be happy about to warrant such a wide smile. Red Alert glared up at the couple as they introduced themselves as Starlight and Quickhaul--smiles still attached and everything.

“We’re going to be like your new creators while you’re here.” Starlight, the femme, told him in a way too friendly voice as the social worker left the house. “You’ll have your own room upstairs, right next to our’s. Would you like to go see it now?” She reached out to take his servo.

‘No.’ But Red Alert didn’t say that. He didn’t tell her that no, she and Quickhaul were not going to be like his new creators, because no bot was going to replace his sire. He mightn’t have like everything they did, but they were family. He didn’t say that, just as he never said to any of the social workers just how much he hated them for taking him away from everything he knew. Oh no, he never said any of the stuff he thought of, because that wasn’t what they wanted. They all just wanted him to be a good little mechling and be ever so grateful to not have to life with his sire anymore.

“Y-yes.” He barely got the word out past his vocalizer.

“Wonderful!” Starlight smiled even wider down at him. “We’re going to get along so well together. We’ll be a great family, just you wait and see.” She began leading him up the stairs.

No they weren’t. Red Alert was sure of it. His chance at as ‘great family’ was destroyed the moment his carrier, Nightbird, walked out of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've come to the end (for now). Sorry to anyone who was hoping that Prowl and Red Alert got to be brothers. It just couldn't happen.
> 
> Now, although 'Time's Supposed to Heal You' is over, it does not mean this is the last you get to see of little Red Alert and little Prowl. This world will most likely be the one I do many of my idle dabbles in, and since I have more planned for the two, you will definitely see more sometime. 
> 
> And now my friends,
> 
> Adieu.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone thinks I need to add tags or warnings just let me know.


End file.
